Brothers
by King of 2211
Summary: Orphaned at a young age, young Po is adopted by the great Capoeira Mestre; Mufasa de Santos and is raised as his son. One day, tragedy strikes as Mufasa dies in a mysterious fire and his brother, Simba, vanishes without a trace. Years later they would finally reunite and must work together to defeat their wicked uncle; Scar. T for blood only. Humanized. TiPo and SiNa pairings.


**Allow-Motto! This is the King of 2211, coming up with a KFP/LK fic, one of the very (x10) few that there's ever been made at all really. Seriously, how come no one's though of making an xover of these two franchises?! Is it really too much to ask?! Is it?! Anyway, this is actually going to be my very first Lion King fic as well as a Capoeira based story, which a buff Po, also its humanized. So, here's the deal, DreamWorks owns KFP (including characters, story, and movies), the same thing goes for Disney with the Lion King, please do enjoy!**

* * *

_Long ago, in Ancient China, Shaolin monks of many monasteries across the country had developed a form of armed and unarmed combat, which they named "Kung Fu". Though Kung Fu was taught for self-defensive, honor, and discipline; others sought no more than a killing art used to do harm, win money, and bring fear to others, even those who could not defend themselves. Many masters of Kung Fu were known through history that became heroes among the Chinese community and their Martial Arts: Yue Fei, Wong Fei Hung, Huo Yuanjia, Yip Man, and many, many more. Many years later in Brazil, during the age of slavery, many had feared that the black slaves would rebel against their masters should they learn any form of combat, which led for a rule that restricted the slaves to learn Martial Arts of any form of self-defense. This did not sop the slaves, however, as they quickly developed their own form of Martial Arts in a way no one, not even their own masters, would ever suspect possible. Though many would confuse this one art with something as nothing more than a common, seeing as the slaves never made any attempt to spar with each other, they would soon learn that this "dance" would eventually evolve into a deadly, then into the national sport of Brazil. Though both these forms of Martial Arts are countries apart, legend would say a warrior born of the Chinese would learn a foreign form of combat and rise against the great evils that plagued the world around them. This single warrior would be forever known by one name, a name that would strike fear into the souls of the wicked and corrupt, a name that would inspire those to become stronger and free; this warrior would be known as the "**Dragon** **Warrior**". _

* * *

**Prologue**: New Faith, New Family

* * *

It was a sunny day in Beijing, China with an ocean of people in a hustle and bustle around the crowded streets as they did every day of their lives; nothing special to be done what so ever at all. But put of all of these seemingly normal and not so special people, one child stood out way more than a sore thumb, even if you painted him all white or blended him into the background. This person was a child, no older than the age of eight at that, but it was his _appearance_ that would really get everyone's attention in almost an _instant. _The clothes he wore were old, raggy, and dirty with a plain T-shirt that had wrinkled sleeves, faded jeans with tears all over the legs, and black Nikes that appeared to be _way_ past overused. The child himself, despite appearing to be homeless and very malnourished, was a little chubby with a well-rounded like a baby's, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his belly stuck out at the bottom of his shirt. It had been two days since he had last eaten as his stomach began to rumble painfully, tears welling into his eyes as he knew all too well that he couldn't afford any food. In truth, this little boy was a runaway from a local orphanage after years of being pushed around, called names, and over all, bullied by the other kids because of his weight.

The young orphan was on the run since then, no doubt the orphanage called the police to find him and bring him back so that he would be put into a foster home with people who wouldn't love him and neglect him. No, where he was now was bad enough, but he'd rather die of starvation than return to that god forsaken orphanage! The best thing for him to do in times like this was to either find scraps on the ground with garbage or steal while others looked the either way. He didn't like to steal anything, he abhorred the very thought as it was in fact, even if he got caught red-handed, but what other choices did he have besides starvation? Sighing to himself, he spotted a group of people, some half were Chinese, while the other half were foreigners of some sort by the color of their skin and how their eyes weren't slanted like Asian people, but the boy couldn't figure out where. After following them and seeing that one of the adult foreign females had a pouch full of money in her purse, the boy knew he needed to be silent yet crafty if he were to take the pouch unnoticed. It was a real shame really, the woman looked like a nice lady, especially with children, and seemed very friendly, but there was no time to make friends at the time being. Moving slowly through the crowd of people all around him, the boy approached the foreign woman, then began to walk past her as her back was turned . . .

* * *

Walking among the crowd of people through the streets of the market place were two different groups of different nationality as one of the two groups was made up of Chinese, while the other group didn't seem to be Asian at all. One man, who appeared to be in his late-thirties, of the group in particular was the tallest with a muscular body with dark skin that made him look African, broad shoulders, handsome clean-shaven facial features, long dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail, and dark-brown eyes. He wore a loose white long-sleeved shirt, matching pants that were also loose and held up by a black cord, a very unique and wide beaded necklace around his neck, and brown mountain shoes with white socks. The woman beside him was, who was also in her late-thirties, had an hourglass figure with lighter skin that it made her look almost Hispanic, beautiful facial features, straight long shoulder-length raven-black hair, and caramel-brown eyes. She wore a, though as loose as the dark-skinned man's clothing, lovely white sundress that flowed through the breeze and a pair of black slip-on shoes. With them were more non-Asian people, both male and female of various ages in a total of eight, who also wore loose white clothing, some were even dark-skinned, while others looked Hispanic like the woman. There was also a little boy, nine years of age by the looks of things, that stood to the right side of the dark-skinned man who looked as Hispanic as the woman and half of his group and the same straight (albeit short) hair as mentioned woman, but had the same deep dark-brown eyes. He wore nothing more (rhyme) than white short-sleeved shirt, simple white pants (the two of which were as loose as the rest of the group), and black sandals.

The other group was consisted of Asian people, more commonly, most of them wore the same type of clothing: black long-sleeved silk shirts with white cuffs, black baggy silk pants, and black slip on shoes with white socks. Two of the Chinese wore clothing that one would usually see in a Shaolin temple as they both wore orange baggy long-sleeved shirts, white baggy pants, and black slip on shoes. One of the two was an elderly as he had a bladed and wrinkled head and dull-green eyes that were full of wisdom, while the other had short reddish-brown hair, thing mustache, a short beard, mad sky-blue eyes that were stern. Among them were two children, one boy and a girl who walked beside the short man, the boy appearing to be the oldest of the two. The boy had short black hair, pale skin, and dark-brown eyes; wore a blue long-sleeved uniform, brown studded belt, purple slacks, and black slip on shoes with white socks. The girl appeared to be the same, only with longer black hair; she wore a red vest with yellow vine pattern and black trimming, black silk pants, and the same footwear as the rest of the Chinese.

"It is truly a beautiful day." The dark-skinned man mused happily. "What do you think Sarabi?"

"It's a rather nice day, good enough to be out and about." The woman, Sarabi, replied kissing the man on the cheek. "Thanks again for the suggestion, Master Oogway."

"Anything for old friends, but don't think I'm calling myself old!" The elderly Chinese man, Oogway, laughed, which was joined in by both groups, excluding the short man and the two children that walked to his sides. "Now then, Mufasa, you said you had something to share with us?"

"Ah, yes, where do I begin . . ?" Mufasa, the dark-skinned man, mused.

Unbeknownst to either group, a small figure slowly made his way past them and was just in elbow reach of Sarabi's, which was no more of an unnoticeable bump. Unfortunately for the figure, his act didn't go unnoticed by Mufasa as he sensed something was amiss and noticed an overweight child passing by his wife's . . . purse? Mufasa's hand shot towards the hand of the child's when he noticed there was something he was putting into his pocket . . . something all too familiar. This was proven to be correct when everyone around saw that the little boy was holding Sarabi's small money pouch, which was taken back by her husband. The boy was absolutely stunned by what had happened; he was so sure that he was being careful when he past by the woman, but the man was almost as fast as a lightning bolt!

"You shouldn't be taking things that don't belong to you." Mufasa said sternly, yet surprisingly not enraged. "It's not a very nice thing to do."

"Worry not, Mufasa, I'll see to it that this little thief will be severely punished." The small Chinese man spoke, narrowing his eyes on the overweight boy.

"You will do no such act, Shifu!" Sarabi intervened, stepping between the boy and the now surprised man, who was known Shifu.

"But he tried to steal from you!"

"But I have my pouch back now, don't I?"

That is not the point nor does it excuse what has been done!" Shifu argued.

"Then what does, pray tell?" Mufasa questioned, crossing his arms.

Taking advantage that they seemed to caught up in their disagreeing argument, the boy slowly inched away, then began to sprint away when he was far away enough. Though he was overweight, his speed was that of an Olympic track runner, possibly experience from running away from kids that tried to beat on him. Unfortunately for him, his escape didn't go unnoticed when the young Hispanic boy saw him running away, then gave chase to catch him.

"Hey, stop!" The boy shouted, alerting the adults.

"Simba!" Mufasa called out as both groups ended up chasing the two.

It was insane; no matter where the boy ran, Simba was still right behind him, even though he was still no closer to be within arms reach of each other. The boy tried drastically to lose his presuer by any means, such as: pushing a cart to prevent him from following, closing gates to prevent passage, and even drop soap water in hopes that he'd might slip. These attempts were useless as the Hispanic boy appeared to be some sort of gymnast as he was able to slid, jump, and even flip through the thing that were meant to stop him.

"Nowhere to run." Simba stated as he approached the other boy. "Now come along quietly, I don't want to hurt you."

The Chinese boy didn't believe the words of the Hispanic as he performed several, albeit amateur and sloppy, Kung Fu moves he read about and saw on TV a lot. Simba merely watched the Chinese boy perform these stunt, then decided that there was only one of getting through to him, but he wasn't going to hurt him . . . not unless he was _really_ asking for it. The Chinese boy wasn't expecting the boy to do what happened next, but it was safe to say that it was downright confusing. The Hispanic boy stepped from side to side, all the while flailing his arms out three times, then roll on the ground before he stood back up. Was he dancing? At any rate, the Chinese boy charged at the Hispanic boy, only to fall flat on his face to the ground when Simba swept him off his feet. The boy got up and tried to land a punch or kick, but the Hispanic boy easily bobbed and weaves out of the way, then swept the Chinese boy off his feet yet again. Attack after attack on Simba was virtually useless as the Chinese boy found his attacks blocked and his legs swept whenever his face met the ground ; finally, the Chinese boy was too exhausted to stand.

"Ready to talk now?" Simba asked, kneeling down as he caught the sight of sad eyes.

". . . . Okay" The Chinese boy said climbing to his feet

"That won't be necessary."

The Chinese boy turned around to see where the new voice came from . . . only to be met by a punch to the face, causing him to roughly fall back down. That didn't stop as he felt something kick him from the side, which made him cough and cry out in pain as he looked up to see the boy who stood with Shifu. The older boy smiled sadistically as he prepared for another strike at the downed boy, who lost consciousness shortly after, only to be stopped by the Hispanic boy.

"That's enough!" Simba shouted as he pushed the other boy away. "What do you think you're doing, Tai Lung?!"

"Teaching him that stealing isn't tolerated around here; that's what!" Tai Lung shot back, then cracked his knuckles. "Now if you'll excuse me . . ."

He approached the down overweight boy, only to be stopped by Simba, who didn't looked all that pleased about what the older boy had done.

"Oh, you're excused, to go _back_ to Shifu!"

"He stole your mother's pouch!"

"My father got it back and he _will_ learn!" Simba growled, starting to get fed up with the other boy's bullying behavior.

"I will not repeat myself again; get out of my way or I will-"

"Or you will _what_, Tai Lung?"

Both boys turned to see the emerging form of Mufasa, who didn't look too pleased as he regarded the three with his arms crossed; he wasn't amused.

"Dad, I-" Simba tried to say, but one stern look made him remain quiet.

"Master Mufasa, I only intended to teach this thief a lesson for stealing from your wife." Tai Lung said, bowing down.

"It's not Master; it's _Mestre_!"

"Though I appreciate the gesture, there was no need for senseless violence." Mufasa stated, having noticed the now unconscious boy. "Well, come on you two."

The dark-skinned man walked towards the two as they glared daggers at one another, then walked past them to the slumped Chinese boy and saw that he was bruised a bit. Odd, Tai Lung didn't seem to hurt this boy to injure him this much, but noticed that most of the bruises and scabs were days-to-weeks old; this meant he was beaten up before. Whoever did sure did a number on him, he was practically a punching bag in their eyes, which made Mufasa sneered angrily. He abhorred bullies with a passion; they thought they could say or do anything hurtful just because they were bigger, stronger, or older. Then that's what he remember when he looked into the eyes of the boy and saw that there were many things, many emotions that flashed through his gaze; one he recognized as fear. It was then that Mufasa picked up the boy, despite feeling that he was lifting a weight, from the ground, then looked back to the two boys. They were both looking at him with confused expressions and wanted to question what he was doing, but held their tongues when they met his stern gaze.

"Let's go, you're mother and I will have a word with you later, Simba." Mufasa stated as he walked to find the group, the boys following his lead.

* * *

Darkness.

That was the first thing he saw.

Then everything around him was a bit blurring, but after rubbing his eyes, the boy saw that he was in a room that looked a lot like the nurse's office back at the orphanage, which had him worried. As he sat up, he let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw the was, in fact, _not_ at the orphanage; anywhere was better than _that_ place. But then, if he wasn't at the orphanage, then where the heck was he anyway? He looked all over himself when he realized he was wearing white hospital clothing, but he wasn't at a hospital; it must've been from when that other kid hurt him. It would certainly explain some of the bandages he had on his forehead. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door open and the forms of Mufasa and Sarabi entered the room, causing the boy to back away in fear. He was afraid they were mad at him for trying to steal money from them and though he expected as much, he knew all too well that stealing was a very bad thing to do.

"No, no, it's alright, young one." Mufasa said slowly, sitting on a chair beside the bed. "You don't have to be afraid, we won't hurt you."

"Y-y-you w-won't?" The boy stammered in surprised?.

"We'd never harm a child, even if they steal from us." Sarabi replied taking a seat on the side of the bed.

"Which is why we want to know." Mufasa said, looking at the boy straight in the eyes. "Stealing is a terrible habit to have, what would your parents say?"

". . . I don't have any parents . . ." The boy whimpered, his head falling and a stray tear trickled down his cheek.

"Oh, I see, I see . . . what is your name?"

" . . . Po."

"Po, my name is Mufasa, and this is my wife; Sarabi." Mufasa kindly introduced.

"And I'm fairly certain you've already met our son, Simba." Sarabi smiled, stroking the boy's cheek. "Why don't you tell us about yourself, and we'll do the same in return; maybe we can help."

Looking between the two a few times, uncertain if he should comply with their suggestion, but seeing how kindly their gaze was, Po let out a deep sigh and began to think of what to say. He revealed that he was put in an orphanage on the outskirts of Beijing from a young age and never knew if his parents loved him or not. This made the couple sad a bit, but remained silent and allowed Po to continue on with his story. Po went on to say that he was constantly bullied by some of the other children because he was a little overweight, not only that, but people always looked over him whenever there was an adoption. If that wasn't what set the both of the couple off, it was when he got to the part of the neglectful staff that really made Sarabi lose her composure as she loved children and disliked any abuse involved. Mufasa was able to quell his wife's upset mood, hard to believe she appeared to be a very calm woman not too long ago, or at least three minuets earlier. After Po was finished with his story, a sudden thought went through Sarabi's head as she whispered it to her husband; needless to say, he was shocked at first, but relented when his wife gave him "the pout". There was no reasoning with her when she had a thought like this, so he had to go along, besides, the same thoughts went through his mind as well. It was when Po remarked that he had interest in Martial Arts that both Mufasa and Sarabi revealed that they both taught Martial Arts, which quipped the Chinese's boy's attention. This made them both chuckle and giggle, then went on to explain that they were Brazilian, hailing from another country called Brazil . . .

* * *

"You cannot be serious!" Shifu exclaimed incredulously.

"Shifu, lower your voice!" Sarabi scolded in a hushed tone.

It had been several hours later, the sky now bright orange as the sun began to set and the moon would climb up when the stars appear. They were now at what appeared to be a training studio, meaning it was a Chinese Martial Arts school of sort. After much discussion between Mufasa and Oogway, both the Brazilian man and his wife decided that they would adopt Po and bring him back to Rio de Janeiro when they leave. Po, not being able to process what he was told at first, was beyond happy that he was never going back to the orphanage and that a couple actually wanted to adopt _him_. Simba was surprisingly understanding and was actually accepting and excited have a "baby" brother in their family, despite the different ethnicity. Shifu, who was still firm with his belief that the boy should've been handed over back to the orphanage, was absolutely shell shocked about the very idea. Yes, they were both kind and loving parents to Simba, but were they truly willing to forget that the boy tried to steal from them earlier? Surly they were being a little too forgiving.

"My apologies, but adopting the boy?" Shifu questioned. "He tried to steal from you and you decide to _adopt_ him?"

"Yes, he's all alone without anyone to care for him, even the orphanage said that the other children pick on him." Mufasa replied firmly.

"Then he should learn to protect himself-"

"Enough, Shifu!" Oogway suddenly shouted, which shocked the small man. "Let them speak."

"Thank you, Oogway." Sarabi smiled, relishing the smaller man's reaction.

"You've seen him, Shifu, the way he looked at you and the way he ran from us." Mufasa stated, then looked at the small man in the eyes. "He was scared, and he regretful."

"Regretful?" Shifu asked in confusion.

"It wasn't that he actually wanted to steal, but he had no money and he was desperate."

"He has no one to turn to and the staff at the orphanage aren't exactly helpful." Sarabi remarked, still fuming about what she heard.

"Well, I for one have one thing to say . . ." Oogway stated, gaining everyone's attention. ". . . You should call the orphanage . . . and discuss to file the proper paperwork to adopt young Po."

"What?! Master, I cannot believe you are encouraging this!" Shifu nearly blew his lid.

"For the last time, Shifu, lower your voice!" Mufasa hissed, then glared at the small man. "And what, are you saying we are not allowed to adopt?"

"That is not what I am worried about . . . it is the fact that you decide to take him to Brazil with you."

"Oh, is that all?" Sarabi asked sarcastically, casting a glance.

"Let me finish, because I am concerned on how he will be treated." Shifu said, showing a rare softer side. "He will be an ethnicity in a different country, I fear on how your students will react."

"As much as we appreciate your concern, allow me to assure you one thing . . ." Mufasa stated with the most serious face he could make. "Our school is international and there are _many_ children he can make friends with."

"Simba has already gotten along with him, so that's a good sign." Sarabi added, standing next to her husband.

"That may be-" Shifu tried to argue.

"We have made up our minds, whether you agree with us or not." Mufasa interrupted firmly, winning the debate.

"Nicely said, now about that phone call . . ." Oogway inquired with a smile.

* * *

It was right before the Brazilians got aboard the cruise liner the Oogway gave his last farewell to both his friends and their students, as well as the children. Shifu, though the children that usually walked with him and the other students were nowhere to be seen, was also present. Though Po obviously didn't like the small man by what he saw so far, including the way he looked at him; good thing he was leaving. What also was apparent that Po was excited that he was adopted, not even caring that he was Chinese and they were Brazilian, whatever that meant. And though he tried to fight against their real son, Simba, the two got along quite well when they both learned they both loved Martial Arts with a passion. They had both spend the rest of the few days in Beijing chatting and chatting about famous Martial Arts actors, more particularly the inventor of Jeet Kune Do himself; Bruce Lee. What the boys noticed was that Tai Lung was keeping his distance (glared at them none the less) and Shifu's daughter, Hu, treated Po as if he didn't exist and became strangely quiet and shy around Simba, though he seemed to dislike her. Before they reached the harbor, Oogway had used the time to get to know Po and felt that there was something about the boy; something that felt he was destined for greatness . . .

"It was an honor to have you all stay." Oogway said as he bowed to the Brazilian group.

"The honor was all ours, we are grateful for your hospitality." Sarabi replied, she and the group returning bows.

"And we thank you for allowing us to expand our family." Mufasa said, referring to his newly adopted son. "Say goodbye to Oogway, boys."

"Bye, Master Oogway, hope we can visit again." Simba said, bowing them giving the elder a hug.

"I hope so as well, young Simba, I hope so as well." Oogway chuckled as he returned the hug.

"Po, say goodbye, please." Sarabi encouraged when she saw her adopted son shrinking away, then walk up to the old master.

"G-g-goodbye, Master . . ." Po sputtered nervously, bowing.

"Young Po, though you leave now, do remember that China will always be your home." Oogway smiled, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now you listen to Mufasa and Sarabi, not only because they are your new family, but because will be teaching you new thing; do you understand?"

"I-I think so . . ."

"You will, in time, until we all meet again, my friends, _**gao bie** _(farewell). Oh, and tell Mestre Ahadi and Mestra Uru Oogway says "_**Nihao**_" (hello)."

"We shall, until then, _**despedida** _(farewell)." Mufasa said, which confused Po slightly.

"_**Despedida** _(Farewell)!" Sarabi, Simba, and the rest of the students repeated.

Without another word to be said, Oogway and Shifu bowed as the Brazilians began to board the cruise liner, which began to cast off to its destination when everyone was safely on board. Though Po was afraid of any storm that came unexpectedly, having heard the forecast on the radio, the captain assured that everything would be alright. Po was never the one to be seasick, especially since he never been on a boat before, he decided that he wanted to do a little exploring. Sarabi and Simba would be unable to join as they were both exhausted from walking around for the last few days and decided to take a nap in their rooms. This left only Po and Mufasa, which was alright, both wanted to spend time anyway and now was a good time as ever. It was a little early for dinnertime as the two walked around and the Chinese boy marveled at everything that the cruise had, besides the restaurant. Was Mufasa rich or something, because everything Po saw looked incredibly expensive, but those thoughts were quickly forgotten when the sound of music caught his ears. Po looked down to the deck to see Mufasa's students doing a sort of performance as they all gathered into a big circle, swayed back and forth as some played odd-looking instruments. But what they did surprised the young boy as two would come face to face with one another and did some sort of dance that he didn't recognize. It was then that he realized that they kicked at one another in various ways, then remembered that Simba did the exact same thing a few days ago in the alley.

"M-M-Mufasa . . . what are they doing?" Po asked, not calling the man father as he felt he had not earned the right to call him such. "Are they dancing?"

"That, dear Po, was not a dance; not entirely, at least . . ." Mufasa chuckled as he looked over the horizon, then turned around to face the young Chinese boy. "This . . . . is Capoeira!"

* * *

To Be Continued: Troubled Life

* * *

**And there you have it, Po has found a new family and a figuratively new Martial Art; the musical fighting art of Capoeira! I'm really, really hope that I've done somewhat of a good job; this is my first time doing a Lion King fic, as mention before. Well, anyway, let me know what you all think, but no flames please. If you like it, please let me know to continue. Laterz!**


End file.
